


Catch and Release

by oheventually



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 11:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oheventually/pseuds/oheventually
Summary: Thor and Loki meet in trapeze class.





	Catch and Release

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I just like to think about them.

They meet on a Wednesday. Thor remembers this because he’s wearing his favourite training tights at the time, eye-searingly red with yellow thunderbolts trailing down the sides (truth be told, he’d run out of other training clothes and hadn’t looked before shoving whatever vaguely pants-like spandex he’d grabbed into his bag cause he was already running late - but no one needed to know that).

“Okay freaks, the 2018-19 season looms upon us,” Sif booms through the megaphone from her customary place atop the fly tower. “You know what that means - skills and acro training starts today and the choreo team will be coming by in a month or so to see what we’ve got. I think there are some new people here, so shout-out real quick to Korg, Miek, Val and Loki.”

Thor eyes the newcomers. The Cirque is a hard-knock life and every season sees the changing of a few faces. His gaze lingers over the last one, tall and slender but still wiry with muscle.  _Trapeze_ , he bets with himself and is pleasantly surprised when he’s right.

“Partner up!” Sif shouts. “Korg, Val, you’re tumblers, yeah? Floor’s over there, Fandral and Hogun will show you around.” Both men turn as their names are called, Hogun clapping Thor heartily on the shoulder as he passes.

“Miek, you’re dance.” Thor watches as a short, lithe man is directed over to the small room they save for strict choreo, leaving only one man left.

Sif walks over and Thor can’t contain the smile on his lips as she introduces them. “Thor, this is Loki. He’s trapeze.”  _Called it._

“Hi,” Thor says, holding out a hand.

The fellow - Loki - arches an eyebrow at him. “Nice tights.” The corner of his mouth quirks up in what might be a grin as he extends his hand, shaking Thor’s with a surprisingly solid grip.  

“Thanks,” Thor says easily, taking it in stride. Okay, so Sif’s told him over and over again that the pattern is a little much. But Sif really can’t fathom how much Thor  _hates_  laundry. “They’re the source of all my power.”

Loki’s eyes flick up and down Thor’s body. “Surely not  _all_  your power,” he says to Thor’s pectorals.

Thor fairly beams at that. “As a matter of fact,” he says, brushing an errant strand of hair behind his ear and making sure to flex his bicep as he does so, “I-”

“The trapeze,” Sif cuts in, eyes glinting with murder, “is right there.”

Thor snaps back to himself and Loki has the grace to look slightly chagrined. “Sure thing, Sif,” he says and leads the way.

Despite the familiarity of their introduction, when they get to the top of the fly tower, it’s all business. Well, mostly. At least 70% business, Thor thinks, virtuously, managing not to stare too long at Loki's toned - everything.

“So how’d you get to Cirque?” Thor asks as they climb the ladder. Loki follows him nimbly.

“I was a gymnast,” Loki says, pace even and hands steady on the rungs. “Grew out of competition but still wanted to do something with my training. The circus seemed natural.”

“Cool,” Thor says. “D’you have much experience with trapeze?”

Loki rolls his eyes as he gets to the top. “No, I just showed up here on a whim. Of course I have experience.”

Thor raises his hands. “Sorry, I just-”

But he doesn’t get to say anymore as Loki pushes past him, grabs the fly bar and launches himself off the platform. Thor watches in fascination as Loki swings through the air, letting the swing carry him to the full height of the rope before straddling and kipping up as the bar drops backwards. He watches, enthralled, as the trapeze swings again and Loki disengages and dismounts from the bar with a perfect triple Arabian somersault onto the net, falling as if it’s the most natural thing he’s ever done.

When Loki gets back up to the platform, Thor is speechless. Loki bares his teeth. “Experienced enough for you?”

Somewhere between the mischief in Loki’s eyes and the sharpness of his grin, Thor finds his voice. “Aye, I guess you’ll do.”

Loki claps his chalked-up hands right in Thor’s face. Coughing through a cloud of white, Thor can’t bring himself to mind.

+++

Over the next few weeks, Thor warms to Loki more and more despite himself. Whatever other circus background Loki’s had before coming to Cirque, one thing is clear: he’s good. Thor has been in Cirque, catching on trapeze for a few years now and he’s never had the type of easy physical connection he has with Loki. There’s no awkwardness in their contact as Thor’s had with some flyers; no split second of hesitation as Loki reaches for him coming out of a salto as Thor’s had with others. When Loki releases the bar, Thor will catch him. It’s as simple as that.

So it goes that Loki and Thor develop an easy camaraderie and Thor does his best to push any thoughts of how attractive Loki is aside. While the dark-haired flyer may have legs for days and a sinuous grace that Thor can only envy, he knows better than to sacrifice their synchronicity for a romp in the sheets. 

+++

The choreo team comes by one day to speak with Sif and hem and haw over the structural arrangements of the stage for the new season. Thor is positioning himself on the catch trap, watching as Loki watches him from the trapeze board, waiting for his cue. They’re practicing  _pointes_  together for the first time today, a trick in which Loki folds his feet up to the fly bar mid-swing and lets go with his hands at the top of the swing, hanging for a moment in the air before Thor catches him. Or at least, theoretically, that’s how Thor’s hoping it will go. It’s a deceptively challenging move for both parties: Loki, for, well, folding himself up and launching off the bar; and Thor for getting the timing  _just_  right. It’s easy to make the mistake of catching someone too soon, especially on a move like this when the split-second freefall is what really makes or breaks it for the audience. Perched on the catch trap, Thor tightens his ponytail with chalky hands before looking up to meet Loki’s dark gaze.  _Ready?_  He doesn’t need to ask aloud because he knows Loki can read him at this point, can see him preparing for flight. Loki sends him a curt nod.  _Ready._   

In a breath, Thor drops himself under the bar and gets into a catcher’s lock. He threads his legs around the supporting ropes and hooks his knees over the bar, letting go with his hands as he does so to hang freely from his legs. Then, he starts to move. It’s slow at first as it always is; getting to a full swing from a dead hang doesn’t happen instantly. But Thor’s had enough practice that the contraction of his core and the arch of his back create ample leverage and it’s not long before his passes are high enough to catch. 

“Hup!” he calls on the downswing and even though he can’t see the flyer’s platform, he knows the exact moment Loki launches himself into the air. 

Thor’s world narrows to flashes of time as he swings back, preparing for the catch: the bright lights above him; his hands trailing through the air; a glimpse of the net below, there and gone. On the final upswing, Thor cranes his neck to watch Loki, sees the . His mouth is dry from more than exertion. 

Loki’s swing is textbook. The slice of his body through the air is a whisper of impossible grace, from the surety of his grip on the bar to his pointed toes (in a distant part of his mind, Thor is impressed despite himself. It’s not often that a new artist points their toes on the first try - but Loki has a habit of bowling over his expectations). Loki folds himself into a pike on the bar, knees locked straight. He raises his head and their gazes lock and he -

lets go -

releases the fly bar and launches into thin air, legs extended and arms outstretched and for a breathless moment hangs there, suspended, as if gravity cannot bear to touch him.

And then just as he begins to fall, Thor hits the apex of his swing and Loki’s outstretched hands fall into his with a solid thud. 

Thor feels the strength in the corded muscles of Loki’s forearms as they grip each other, swinging through the air.  “Twist me,” Loki says as they move into the back peak of the swing. Thor doesn’t waste a breath in flexing, tightening his core and jerking his arms to throw Loki into the air at the peak of the swing and watching as Loki torques his body around in a demi-pirouette to catch Thor’s hold again, facing the opposite way as they swing back towards the fly bar. In the back of his mind, Thor admires the picture Loki makes as he moves through the air, all pointed toes and sturdy back muscles bunching under his thin white T-shirt. At the front peak of the swing, Thor contracts again, tossing Loki easily into the air to catch the fly bar and complete the trick.

As Thor pulls himself back into a sitting position on the catch trap, he hears clapping. He wipes the sweat from his brow before looking down at the choreo team all staring up at - at him, he realizes with a jolt and can’t completely stop the grin trying to break onto his face.  _Did choreo see that trick?_  Thor raises a hand in acknowledgement before beginning his descent down the rope, 

Loki greets him on the floor, eyes alight and cheeks tinged pink with exertion. Thor’s smile widens at the sight. “You did pretty good,” he says, clapping Loki’s shoulder.

Loki laughs, back muscles jumping under Thor’s hand. “We did,” he says, shooting a glance at Thor. From the side, Thor can see Loki’s cheek twitch. He’s smiling. Something warm blooms in Thor’s chest at the sight.

“That was excellent!” Before he can think on it much further, a choreo member breaks off from Sif’s huddle and comes up to them. “You - the two of you have such great coordination. The timing on that drop was perfect. If you can keep that up for the season, it would be brilliant to showcase that as part of the main act.”

Thor beams. Beside him, Loki’s eyes are as wide as Thor’s ever seen them. He opens his mouth and closes it wordlessly. 

“Great work,” the choreographer enthuses and nods once before heading back to Sif. 

Thor and Loki trade a glance in his wake and Thor grins and knock their shoulders together. Loki shoves Thor lightly but the answering smile on his face betrays him and they stand there stupidly grinning at each other until Sif deafens the gym with her megaphone. “Alright, everyone! Meet in the main gym, we’re talking sets!”

+++

They’re running through their set when Loki gets that glint in his eye, the one Thor’s come to know. It says  _I’m bored;_  it says  _let’s see what this body can do_. Thor thinks privately that Loki must have been an excellent gymnast for it, this constant testing of rules and limits. Even before Loki speaks, Thor knows his answer will be yes.

“Quadruple,” is what Loki says and Thor doesn’t miss a beat.

“I was just waiting for you to ask.”

It’s a move he’s always wanted to try, after all. As hard as four midair rotations are for the flyer, the coordination on the part of the catcher for this move is no small feat - and Thor’s always liked to push his limits. He climbs the rope up to the catching bar with excitement thrumming through his veins, making him hyperaware of each moment. The chalky handprints he leaves on the rope. The rough fibres digging into his palms. The way the florescent lights seem extra bright when they’re so close and the ground is so far. Thor forces himself to take a deep breath as he grabs the catch trap. He looks out across the net to Loki’s platform and they lock eyes. Thor grins as he lets go of the rope and drops into position.

Swinging is easy. Thor concentrates on the hollow and arch of his body, hands outstretched for extra leverage as he works to get the maximal height. After a few swings, muscles familiarly warm, he catches Loki’s gaze at the top of his swing. “Ready!”

“Ready!” Loki echoes, bending his knees and tightening his grip on the fly bar. 

One more swing and Thor calls out, “Hup!”

Loki jumps, hollowing his body as he falls into space. He swings forward once, kicking out at the top and tucks himself up on the way back, folding into the seven with athletic grace. On his second swing, he hollows, arches, kicks and -

Thor has swung back and is coming for another pass -

Loki releases the bar and snaps his body into a tuck. Thor counts the rotations as seconds in his head:  _1, 2, 3..._

 _4_! Thor reaches out but Loki has overroated in his flip and barely reaches him. Loki’s hands land on his forearms but their grip isn’t stable enough and they can both tell. For a split second, their eyes connect and Thor sees something flash in Loki’s gaze. It makes him grit his teeth and hold on tighter even as Loki’s weight pulls him down. They’re arcing like a pendulum but even though the trick is over, the move isn’t complete until Loki is back on the platform - and with such a poor grip, the likelihood of him being able to return to the fly bar is slim to none.

In that moment, Thor can feel Loki thinking they won’t make it, can feel Loki resigning himself and giving up. So he does the one thing he can and heaves, contracting all his core muscles as hard as he can and flinging Loki into the air. The shocked look on Loki’s face as Thor lets go of his wrists paints itself on the inside of Thor’s eyelids for days to come. 

For a moment, Loki is too surprised to react and in that milisecond, Thor almost doesn’t think he’ll make it. But then years of training kick in and Loki jackknifes his body through the air with what looks like sheer willpower alone and twists just in time to catch the fly bar. It’s not their most graceful move but Thor is so proud of them, he can’t bring himself to care.

Back on the ground, Thor lets his exuberance overtake him. “That was brilliant!”

Meanwhile, Loki looks like he’s chewing glass. “It was sloppy.”

Thor claps one hand on his shoulder, opening his mouth to reply, but Loki jerks away. “You-”

He shakes his head, tendrils of dark hair escaping his bandana. “You caught me! And - then you threw me!”

Thor frowns. “What are -” Loki sounds, for no reason he can discern - Loki sounds  _angry_. “Of course I did. What, did you think I’d just let you fall because of an overrotation?”

Loki just shoves his grips in his bag, scowling fiercely.

Thor runs a hand through his hair, gets caught in his tangled ponytail, curses and tries again. “Of course I’m going to catch you. It’s what I’m - it’s what I do.”

There’s no reply and Thor throws his hands up in frustration. “You just did a fucking quad on the first try. Why are you so angry about it?”

“I’m not angry,” Loki fairly snarls. Then he seems to realize himself, taking a deep breath and standing up a little straighter and turning towards the exit. “I wasn’t - I wasn’t expecting it. Thank you.” He’s moving as soon as the words leave his lips.

“You’re welcome?” Thor tries, but Loki is already gone.

+++

As a matter of safety, performers remove all jewelry when training. It’s just the Done Thing; Thor even leaves the hammer charm his mother gave him in his locker when he’s at the gym. After so many years, it’s habit.

Which is why it’s so startling to enter the changing room with Loki after practice and see him place a small plastic bag of metal on the counter. Thor, in the middle of changing his shirt, looks over curiously. What are - oh.

_Oh._

“I didn’t know you were pierced,” Thor says, trying not to stare too overtly as Loki fiddles with his facial piercings, which WHEN DID HE GET THOSE? Thor’s mind screams.

“Hm,” Loki hums noncommittally as he carefully inserts his lip rings. Thor tries very hard not to drool.

“Did it hurt?” Thor asks despite himself because apparently it’s his destiny to shove his foot in his mouth at all possible opportunities.

“No,” Loki says absently as he moves on to his septum piercing. “The helix and daith were worse than the facial ones. Cartilege is a bitch.”

Thor makes a strangled sound that he hopes Loki takes as manly agreement and not incoherent drooling. Loki for his part doesn’t seem to notice, focusing on fitting a small curved barbell through his right eyebrow. Then he starts on his ears, slipping rings and studs into place: a triple helix piercing, daith, earlobes. 

When he’s finished, there are two silver bars left.

“Where do those go?” Thor wants to ask but then Loki picks one up and replaces it in his nipple -

and Thor needs to turn away abruptly. He can feel himself flushing as he hightails it out of the changeroom.

 _Sleeping with partners is bad!_  he tries to remind himself that night as he fists his cock in the shower.   _Think of Jane_!

Predictably, it doesn’t work and he comes hard to the thought of dark eyes and Loki’s mischeivous smirk.

He falls asleep with the glint of Loki’s jewelry catching his mind’s eye.

+++

After that, Thor tries very hard to keep his gaze and his thoughts to himself. It’s not that he wants to deny his attraction to Loki - funny, fiendish and devilishly clever as he is - but with show prep coming up so soon, they really can’t afford to lose the synergy in their relationship. Choreo would have a fit, for one.

Unfortunately, it seems Loki didn’t get the memo. Thor catches him looking sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, from under lowered lashes. He’s more reserved and withdrawn, laughing less loudly at Thor’s jokes and keeping a careful distance between them. It’s not enough for anyone else to notice but to Thor, the handspan of space between them as they sit on the mat between tricks feels more like a chasm.

“Are - are we ...” Thor starts and trails off, picking at a thread on the mat, “we’re cool, right?”

Loki eyes him sidelong, expression inscrutable. “Yeah,” he says after a minute. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Thor bites the inside of his cheek hard.  _Because I’ve been jacking off to thoughts of you and I think you’re hilarious and catching you is the most natural thing in the world_. “No reason.”

Loki looks at him oddly again, but Thor can’t meet his eyes. “Okay.” He unfolds himself from the mat with balletic grace. “The trapeze is free. Let’s go.”

+++

The rest of their practice passes without incident for which Thor is grateful. He tries to be centered in the moment but can’t quite stop the thread of worry in his gut. Has he overstepped? Does Loki think he’s some weird creeper? But careful (read: slightly paranoid) observation reveals nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary.

“Why don’t you try it?” Loki asks one day out of nowhere as they’re packing up the mats after an acro choreo session.

“Try what?” Thor grunts as he tosses a mat onto the top of a pile. “Loki?”

“Sorry,” Loki says, blinking. “Why don’t you try flying? You’re always on the catch trap. I don’t think I’ve seen you on the fly bar once since I’ve been here, except for working dismounts.” 

Thor looks at his hands. “I’ve always wanted to fly. But, you know-” he breaks off, gesturing to himself, “hard to catch this in midair falling off a trapeze.”

There’s a beat of silence. Thor feels Loki’s eyes on him but can’t bring himself to meet his gaze. Instead, he busies himself with inspecting his calluses.

“Right,” Loki says deciseively, “come on, then.”

“What?” Thor does look up then, only to see Loki exiting the storage room and heading back towards the trapeze. “Loki, what are you doing?”

“Come on,” is all Loki says again, impatience heavy in his tone. “Before I change my mind.”

Bemused, Thor follows, padding across the gym after Loki. The space is silent but for their quiet footfalls. When they reach the trapeze, Thor starts for the rope to the catcher platform but Loki grabs his arm. “You’re going the wrong way.”

Thor looks at Loki’s hand on his bicep then at Loki himself. There’s a gleam to his eyes that speaks of determination - for what, Thor isn’t sure.

Then it clicks. “You want to catch me?” Thor’s voice is incredulous even to his own ears. “Loki, come on - mmph!”

Thor is cut off as Loki claps a palm over his mouth. His mouth is right next to Thor’s ear. “Just go.” Thor feels Loki’s breath on his neck and can’t contain a shiver.

“Okay,” Thor says, tearing free with sudden desperation. He stumbles slightly when Loki releases him, feeling half-drunk on the sensation of Loki’s callused palm against his lips. They’d been standing so close - “Look, I’m going.”

True to his word, Thor climbs the ladder to the fly bar. He has no illusions about how this will go: Loki is far from the only person who’s tried to catch him and failed. The memory of a particularly nasty incident with Hogun flashes through his mind and Thor winces as he remembers the anguished look on Hogun’s face and the leaden feeling in his stomach as the doctor had diagnosed his friend with a torn shoulder ligament. Circus folk aren’t strangers to injury - far from it - but Thor still feels responsible for it; his impatience could have cost Hogun his career and for what? Half a second suspended in the air, the ability to let go of the bar for once, knowing he could still fly?

“Hey!” Loki calls from the catch trap where he’s sitting comfortably atop the bar. Thor jerks back to himself. “Don’t tell me you’re suddenly scared of heights.”

Thor scowls. “Fuck off.”

“Well come on then. Fandral!” Loki snaps to the errant aerialist on the ground. “Come work the board.” 

Thor’s hands are clammy despite the chalk and he resists the urge to rub them on his thighs. “Loki, what - what pass are we doing? Passe simple?”

Thor can almost  _hear_  the eyeroll. “Sure if you want to be  _boring_ ,” Loki says. Inspecting his fingernails with an air of nonchalance that’s a little too casual, he continues, “I was thinking you could do a  _planche_.”

Thor has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from diving off the board right then and there.  _Planche,_ though an objectively simple move in the circus repertoire, is one of his favourite moves. How could Loki have known -

“Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Yeah, sure,  _planche_ is good.”

“I knew you’d come around,” Loki says mildly and drops backwards into a catcher’s lock on the bar. 

Watching Loki swing from his perch on the the fly board, Thor is hit all over again by his grace and power. From here, he can see Loki’s muscles working and the way his stomach clenches as he folds towards the peak of the swing. Thor grips the fly bar with white-knuckled hands as a bolt of desire shoots through him, lighting his nerves on fire.  _Fuck._

He's saved from any further thought process by Loki reaching the peak of his swing. “Ready!” he calls.

Thor bends his knees, lowering his centre of gravity to prepare for the jump. “Ready!”

“Hup!” Loki’s voice rings out and there’s only one thing Thor can do.

He jumps. 

Thor sucks in a deep breath as the ground disappears beneath him and he falls into the swing. The wood of the bar rasps against his hands as the air rushes around him. He hits the front peak of the swing almost too fast - and for a heartbeat, he’s weightless, body hanging in the air until the pull of gravity sucks him back down again. He hollows out as he feels the drop of the return swing, and lets the momentum carry him back towards the fly board as he scoops his feet up and presses through a pike until he’s hanging upside-down against the bar in  _planche_  position.

From here, the forward swing is easy; Thor presses his legs together and clenches his muscles to maintain the  _planche_  as he’s carried forward, momentum taking him high enough that he’s a hair’s-breadth from the lights. That’s when he casts off, throwing the bar away behind him with both hands and falling into empty space. 

For the briefest of moments, Thor is suspended, alone above the ground. The world is silent and there’s nothing but the rush of air around him. For one breathless moment, Thor  _flies_. 

Gravity catches him too quickly and in the space between heartbeats, Thor is falling. He stretches his arms as far as he can, reaching out and praying that Loki will be there as his stomach swoops with the freefall. Just as he gives up on the catch and begins to brace himself for a sickening descent into the net, Loki is there, reaching for Thor and their hands connect just in time. 

The catch is sloppy. Thor’s heart is in his throat as he scrabbles to grip Loki’s hands, but it’s not enough. He can feel himself slipping as the momentum of the swing carries them down. 

“Not a fucking  _chance_ ,” Loki growls and digs his fingers into Thor’s forearms, forcing Thor to hold on.

“Hollow,” Loki grits out through clenched teeth. “Arch. Forceout. Hollow-”

Thor follows his directions instinctively, body working before his mind even catches up with the fact that Loki is narrating the parts of their swing. “Seven!” Loki calls. “Ready - hup!”

He releases Thor’s forearms and Thor squeezes his muscles tight as he whips himself around to grab the fly bar. He nearly flubs the catch, wrist banging painfully off the bar before he finds a grip, and he has to take an extra swing to get back to the fly board but he manages. Exhilaration rushes through him then as he stands on the platform, a blinding crackle of electricity through his veins and Thor whoops and launches himself off the fly board again, kicking high and dismounting with a layout salto into the net. 

Loki follows him down, dropping from the catch trap to land on his back and bounce over to where Thor is lying on the net. He collapses down beside him and Thor laughs as the pressure causes him to bounce off the net for a second. 

“That was brilliant!” Thor exclaims when he can speak again. His whole body is tingling, skin alight from the inside out. The adrenaline rush is still strong in his veins and he can’t stop smiling. His cheeks hurt. “That was - I fucking flew!”

Loki bares his teeth in a grin, eyes bright. "I told you it would work.” 

“You did,” Thor says, still savouring the echo of flight. “Fuck,” he sighs contentedly. 

Beside him, Loki snorts and shoves at his shoulder. “Was it really that good? You make it sound like an orgasm.” 

“Well,” Thor looks over and waggles his eyebrows, “if you’re offering-”

“Oh shut up,” Loki says but he’s laughing. Suddenly he’s clambering over Thor in a mess of knees and elbows digging into Thor’s chest and legs. Before Thor can get his bearings again, breathless with the sensation of Loki’s body so close to his own, Loki calls out. “I’ll race you to the top!” 

He’s already bouncing off the net and grabbing the rope up to the catch trap.  Thor lets out an undignified yelp and scrabbles after him to the fly tower. “No fair, you had a head start!” 

Loki is already climbing hand over hand up the rope and doesn’t reply. Well. There’s only one response to that. Thor heaves himself up from the net and bolts for the fly tower. 

They do a few more passes, Thor flying and Loki catching him. When they at last collapse, laughing, into the net, Loki claps his shoulder and his hand lingers. “We’ll make a flyer out of you yet.”

Thor snorts but doesn’t move away from Loki’s touch. “We’ll see. That was fun,” he adds, shooting Loki a glance out of the corner of his eye. He can see the rise of Loki’s cheeks in profile and the sight starts a tingle of warmth in his chest. “Thank you.”

Loki turns to face him fully though his hand doesn’t leave Thor’s shoulder, a point of heated contact between them. Thor is suddenly aware of all the points where their bodies touch: Loki’s foot against his ankle; their knees knocking together; he can feel the puffs of Loki’s breath against his skin and it makes his hair stand on end. The warmth in Thor’s chest spreads until he feels flushed from head to toe. Though they’re just lying on the net, Thor’s stomach is swooping as if he’s diving off the fly board. 

Loki leans in, impossibly close. Thor can see the dark flutter of his eyelashes. “Thor...”

Thor swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. He shifts to bring a hand up to brush a strand of hair back from where it’s become untucked from Loki’s ponytail. His fingers ghost across the skin at Loki’s temple and Loki sucks in a sharp breath as shocked.

Thor lets his hand linger around the delicate shell of Loki’s ear. He licks his lips, suddenly feeling as if he’s perched on a fly board with no net beneath. “May I?” his voice is rough even to his own ears.

Loki blinks at him and gives a jerky nod. “Yes,” he says or means to say - the word gets caught between their mouths as they surge together, lips and noses knocking clumsily together before they break off laughing. 

“Shall we try that again?” Thor asks, once he’s found his voice. 

Loki swipes at his mouth. “They say practice makes perfect.”

Their second kiss is gentler, more subdued, but no less passionate for it. Thor presses his lips to Loki’s chastely, half scared he’s dreaming and half scared he’s not. It doesn’t take long for Loki to kiss back, mouth warm and hungry against Thor’s. Thor lets himself melt into the kiss, losing himself in Loki’s lips and tongue, warmth rolling through him like a tidal wave. 

When they finally break for air, Loki has climbed half on top of him and Thor’s hands are tangled in Loki’s hair, now fully out of its ponytail. They’re both breathing heavily. 

“So,” Loki says after a minute. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are swollen; Thor has never seen such a delectable sight. “Tonight is one for firsts, I see.”

Thor trails his hands down Loki’s back, relishing in the feel of solid muscle through his shirt, and up again to his scalp. “It’s you to thank for both.”

Loki nips at Thor’s lower lip playfully. “Looks like I have to do everything around here.”

Thor can’t just let that slide. He flips them around in one smooth motion so Loki is pinned beneath him. “I’ll show you  _everything_ ,” he growls.

Loki bursts out laughing. “Oh, will you now?” He waggles his eyebrows for emphasis and Thor can’t help but laugh along. 

“Try me.”

Loki’s eyes are dark with promise. “I intend to.”

They make their way out of the net, stealing nips and kisses as they fall against each other on unsteady legs. Loki springs down to the floor first and holds a hand out for Thor, palm up, expectant. “Come on,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

Thor takes his hand. “That you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: This fic is inspired by the tumblr post: "my boyfriend just turned to me in the middle of watching a british cooking show and said, “what if thor and loki are hipsters who meet in a trapeze class,” and it was so out of the blue and unexpected that i can't stop laughing and anyway my boyfriend is a top-level troll and what if thor and loki are hipsters who meet in a trapeze class." 
> 
> I've lost both the link to the post and the name of the tumblr user who posted it (and google proved useless orz), but if anyone knows who it was, please let me know so I can credit them for the prompt! 
> 
> Note 2: I have never done trapeze in my life. Everything here is a combination of Wikipedia and wishful thinking. For any trapeze moves, please refer to this video: https://youtu.be/Ykt5DD8CMy8


End file.
